Quinn Shepherd, Young Master Cyrus Qi, and Zechariah Lee landed before the divine mountain. The mountain stood solemn and majestic, radiating an extraordinary aura; golden clouds gently drifted around its peak, making it awe-inspiring—none dared to simply fly straight up.
They chose to climb on foot.
The mountain’s staircase led straight to the golden summit hall, and it was clear an extremely brutal battle had once taken place here—the stone steps were stained with mottled traces of blood.
The blood had flowed down from above. Normally, the blood of gods and demons never dries—even after tens of thousands of years it would still pulse with terrifying power. Yet here, all divine and demonic blood had lost its essence, leaving only shocking brown stains.
Strangely, there were no other signs of battle.
Quinn summoned the Worryless Sword and hacked down at the divine mountain. Sparks flew, his arms went numb from the shock, but the strike left not even a scratch.
It seemed some inexplicable force flowed within the mountain itself, protecting it from harm.
“Even the previous Sovereign King of Luofu Heaven and countless demon gods fought their way here, yet none managed to leave a mark. What is this mountain’s origin?” Quinn wondered aloud, baffled.
Zechariah Lee and Young Master Cyrus Qi exchanged a glance, understanding each other instantly, but said nothing.
Zechariah’s eyes flickered. He thought to himself, “Even the Sovereign King couldn’t leave a mark on this mountain. Is it really just an imitation? Somehow, it doesn’t seem that way…”
They continued onward. Up ahead lay the remains of a fallen god-demon—nothing but bare bones. Quinn hurried over; the corpse’s clothes and flesh had long since rotted away.
The skeleton had three neck bones and three heads, each facing a different direction. Six arms extended from its body, each gripping a divine weapon.
“A god who died in battle!”
Quinn’s eyes lit up. He immediately reached for one of the divine weapons—a fierce Tiger Wine Vessel—but the moment his hand touched it, the weapon turned to ash.
Quinn froze, watching as the skeleton gripping the wine vessel also crumbled into dust, disintegrating bit by bit. In moments, the entire corpse was reduced to powder, along with all the other divine weapons—scattered so thoroughly not even a broom could sweep them up.
Zechariah Lee stepped forward, puzzled. "Was he shattered to dust by his opponent?"
Young Master Cyrus Qi shook his head, then suddenly cut his fingertip. A drop of golden blood fell onto the stone steps—instantly, the blood dried up, as if the stairs absorbed all its essence.
Cyrus’s expression grew grim. He said solemnly, “It’s this mountain that drained away all his essence—none was left, not even in the divine weapons.”
Quinn replied earnestly, “Brother Qi, since we’ve all been swept onto this alien star together, if either of you knows anything, don’t keep it to yourself. Let’s share what we know—maybe we’ll find a way out.”
Cyrus’s fingertip healed on its own. He shook his head with a laugh. “This is my first time descending to the lower realms. What could I possibly know about this world, Brother Quinn? Don’t tease me.”
Quinn watched the wound on his fingertip close, feeling a chill. Was this healing from Cyrus’s cultivation method, or some special constitution?
Zechariah Lee was also startled. In their battle before the painted divine city, Cyrus had suffered the worst injuries—Quinn and Zechariah had both nearly killed him, and Quinn had stabbed him through, almost ending his life and Dao.
Yet in just a few days, Cyrus had fully recovered—his cultivation not only undiminished, but even stronger than before!
Each of the three carried their own thoughts as they pressed onward. Fallen god-demon skeletons lay scattered along the steps—some belonged to demon gods, others to deities.
All the deities had three heads and six arms—their skeletons nearly identical, likely the same race.
Their bones and the essence within all divine and demonic weapons had been drained by the mountain, leaving nothing behind. Even the slightest touch reduced them to dust.
Zechariah Lee studied the three-headed, six-armed deity skeletons, frowning. He glanced at Cyrus and asked quietly, “Are these the gods from the Heavenly Court?”
Cyrus shook his head, lowering his voice. “I don’t know. The Heavenly Court does have some three-headed, six-armed gods and demons, but they’re not a race. And there are so many dead three-headed deities here—it’s unlikely they’re from the Heavenly Court. This mountain...”
He shook his head again. “The real ones are in the Heavenly Court. This mountain should be fake, but why is it so powerful?”
He was thoroughly confused.